Boys Don't Cry
by s1ncer1ty
Summary: In this short little side-fic to my "Shattering the Mask" timeline, an angsty Duo reflects on why he left his beloved behind without saying goodbye. I don't think you have to read the original to understand the fic, though. Shounen-ai, 2x3ish.


Boys Don't Cry

"Boys Don't Cry"  
by s1ncer1ty

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*A/N: This is something of a side-fic to my "Shattering the Mask" timeline, expanding a little upon a scene I just wasn't happy with initially. I think you can understand this fic without having to read the original story, but I could be wrong. This one just tells a couple scenes from a different perspective.  
Shounen-ai. Flamers will face the wrath of HeavyArms. _\\*  
---

It was one of the first things I learned as an orphan of the streets on L2. Don't let down your guard. Don't let them know your true heart. Above all else, never, _ever_ let them see you cry, no matter how much it hurts. Even if you have to bite through your own tongue to keep the tears and the screams inside. 

I first learned to hold in my tears when I was six, when the leader of our gang held me by my hair over the edge of the bridge and threatened to drop me into the churning river below if I so much as made a peep. Some nights, I can still feel a tightness in my scalp, a shadow of the searing pain I'd felt at the time, as if the skin across my head were being slowly peeled back like an orange. It was a quick, painful lesson, but I deserved it -- I'd broken down and bawled like a baby when a member of a rival gang stole the loaf of bread I'd rightfully stolen first. Such weakness just wasn't tolerated. So I hid any future tears behind a wide grin. 

It was three years before I was shocked into a fit of weeping once again. The mobile suit was mine, all mine, and with it the rebel troops holding camp within Father Maxwell's orphanage could leave us and take their fight elsewhere. In the end, I had been too slow, and by the time I'd returned, the church was in ruins. But it wasn't the destruction of my first true home that set me off, nor was it the gruesome, bloodied bodies -- and parts of bodies -- strewn across the rubble. 

No, I cried over happiness in Sister Helen's eyes when she knew that I was still alive. I cried over the smile on her face as death took her. As her life shuddered from her fingertips, falling from my cheek, I felt _Shinigami_ blossoming within me, and I cried because I knew it was my destiny to have death forever follow in my wake. 

After that, my life became a blur of destruction and laughter -- taking the lives of those I deemed unworthy of continuing on this mortal coil. I'd always come up with a euphemism as I snuffed the breath from the unworthy with a single slice of the Deathscythe's weaponry. "You're a waste of space." "You don't deserve to breathe the same air I do." "Your mom will thank me for giving her one less mouth to feed." I had to laugh, because otherwise, I might realize what I had done. If I didn't laugh, I'd probably go crazy.

After the war ended for good, I was, of course, relieved. But I was also a little afraid. What good was _Shinigami_ incarnate in a world that had declared peace? It had taken me a good, long while to realize that I didn't have to _take_ lives to decide who was worthy -- I could _give_ life just as easily. So, with some financial assistance from Quatre, I reestablished the Maxwell Church, a haven of joy and security for the multitudes of children on L2 that had been left without a family following the war. Perhaps I'd never become the devout priest that Father Maxwell hoped I'd one day be, but I didn't mind. Little by little, _Shinigami_ shifted into the background. Maybe I'd shaken the mantle of Death for good.

When I came to Earth, to visit the circus where you'd remained, I didn't intend to fall in love. To be quite honest, I'd never found myself attracted to you in the past. Yet seeing how much you'd changed since the war -- from the cold, efficient killer to a docile, if still somewhat morose, young man whose only desire in life was to perform -- was enough to kindle a deep, unwavering affection for you. 

Perhaps it was too soon, for both of us, to go as far as we did. We both knew that eventually I'd have to leave. The holiday would be over sooner or later. I just never told you when, and you never asked. I'd always prided myself on being an honest guy, but, even though I didn't tell a direct lie, I felt as if I had deceived you. 

That night after we drew together in a night of passion, like two phoenixes rising into the blackness of space, I dreamt of Father Maxwell and Sister Helen. I saw their bodies, crucified before me, with the Federation army surrounding them with blood on their hands and blood on their teeth. I begged them not to die. I cried out against Death and the Federation. I told Sister Helen that she could cut my hair if she'd only live -- but I learned long ago that it's futile to bargain with _Shinigami._

It's not often that have nightmares, much less dream, so I knew something had to be done to quiet the demons. I awoke to your shaking my shoulders, feeling the warmth of your bare chest against my own. How could I tell you that all too soon, I would be gone from your life, after you'd opened up and shown me the glorious, loving person you truly are? 

In a rush, I blurted everything out, all that I'd kept from you. "I'm leaving tomorrow. Back to L2. I'm sorry, but I've got responsibilities. The orphans at the Maxwell Church need me."

You grew quiet, and I watched your hair tumble across the emerald green of your eyes the way it always did when you were upset, or hiding from the fear of reality.

I wrapped my arms around you, wanting to brush those bangs from your eyes, but restraining myself. Some emotion deep inside started to press heavily against my chest, threatening to overwhelm the cheery facade I still struggled to maintain. "I should have told you sooner, but I didn't want to spoil the good time. Are you angry?"

"No," you whispered, and when I turned to look up, I felt the weight getting heavier. Suffocating me. "Will you wake me up before you go?"

The strained pleading in your voice brought the weight upon me to come crashing down. Overwhelmed, I felt dim tears well up in my eyes, and before I knew it, they were trickling across my cheeks. It was the third time in my life I'd given in to tears -- when it's such a difficult thing to do, you keep count. I struggled to keep the sobs locked in my chest, and for a while I was successful. But the tenderness of your touch as you stroked your fingers through my hair brought them shaking from my throat. 

However, it wasn't just that I was leaving you and your love. No, that would be too simple a reason for crying, wouldn't it? You see, I realized then that I could never leave _Shinigami _completely behind. In agreeing to become the God of Death to bring success to Operation Meteor, I'd sealed my own fate. As much as I wanted to return to Duo Maxwell, some part of me would always be _Shinigami._

_Shinigami_ had killed Trowa Barton, and that was indeed a mercy. Would it be Duo that killed Triton Bloom? The mere thought brought fresh tears to my eyes. 

I think, ultimately, it might have been better to watch you rail and scream against my tears, against the bearing of my weak soul. Instead, you held me quietly, even showed me sympathy for breaking the unofficial code of the streets. It was sympathy I just didn't deserve. You should have held me over the balcony by my hair, the way my gang leader did nearly ten years ago. In the end, that's why I didn't awaken you before I left. 

I'd been up the entire night, praying that dawn would never break. But, as always, you don't make deals with _Shinigami._ You looked so peaceful lying in the oversized bed with a sweet, unburdened look on your face. Your chestnut-colored bangs spilled across your eyes, and you didn't stir as I brushed them away. In sleep, you were innocent. 

All I could do was leave you a note, but I didn't say goodbye. I'd see you again, in due time. But first, I needed to prove myself worthy of you. If I didn't know who I was, myself, how could I ever be anything for you?

I placed a final, whispering kiss upon your lips as you slept, and I prayed it wouldn't be the kiss that sealed the fate of Triton Bloom. But such a destiny I couldn't predict -- I could only be the means to its end. And so I left.

Alone, I boarded the spacecraft that would take me back to L2, back to my responsibilities and duties. The passenger beside me hadn't wanted to talk, and that was just peachy with me. For the first time in my life, I didn't want to cover up my grief with the facade of jokes. I stared moodily out the window of the vehicle that would shuttle me from your life. 

As we took off, the shuttle pulling away from the ground at so many miles per second, I managed to recognize across the expanse of buildings and forests the hotel where we'd spent our last night together. I wondered if you were still sleeping, or if you were somehow atop the roof of the hotel waving me off. Or even readying to jump. 

Immediately, I wished I _had_ awakened you, to give us both the chance not to say goodbye. I'd been cruel, selfish in not permitting you the opportunity for a last, shared kiss. I ached for your arms to encircle me again and hold me tightly as the tears trickled down my cheeks. Would I ever have that chance again? The prospect of what might have been made me feel impossibly old.

The large man sitting beside me tried to pretend I wasn't weeping, and mercifully waved away the stewardess that insisted on bothering us with the drink cart. My shoulders shivered as I cried quietly, feeling the water pour from my eyes to soak the collar of my shirt. I couldn't stop them if I tried, yet I knew that it was okay. The answer had hit me hours too late, and it was then that I understood -- boys don't cry, but maybe men do.

And maybe, just _maybe,_ that would be enough to bring me back to you sooner than I thought. 


End file.
